


You're My New Case

by imaloserr



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Detective AU, M/M, Mention of Death, but not a main character, idek how to describe this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2018-02-13 16:59:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2158332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaloserr/pseuds/imaloserr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective AU.<br/><i>if they could prove this then Mickey wouldn't be a suspect any more and that meant he could do whatever he pleased to the youngest Milkovich son.</i><br/>Ian's a detective working on the case of Terry's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're My New Case

Ian didn't hate his job he just hated parts of it; the parts that made him want to scream and caused him to go to sleep with a pounding headache every night. He'd woken up at 5 after he spent 6 hours tossing and turning in bed, he doubted that the stress was a good combination on top of his meds, but what could he do?

It wasn't as if it was a usual occurrence it was just one challenging case- a case that his partner, Elliot, had decided to throw on him. Since the start of their partnership Elliot believed that he was superior to Ian, which wasn't true, they were partners they had equal pay roll and Ian was even the most acknowledged.

He'd spent hours the day before going through files and files of records trying to work out exactly who would want to kill Terry Milkovich. The answer was obvious: lots of people. However, most people in South Side didn't actually commit to ideas and emotions, they rather plotted and planned until they went insane. 

Whoever killed Terry Milkovich was probably the right kind of insane, but Ian couldn't think of anybody actually insane enough to kill Terry Milkovich. The Milkovich's were like a family ran gang, if you go after one of them the rest went after you. It was a suicide mission. So when Elliot had announced the case to him, demanding him to find out what had happened, he had been, to put it lightly, surprised. It was enthralling and intense and everything he enjoyed from a case. It also took him closer to home than most cases but Ian lived for a challenge. If Ian was being honest that day, he may have admitted that'd he even like to congratulate the person who shot Terry Milkovich. He wasn't though, Ian was a liar and he definitely wasn't a brave liar.

The precinct was practically empty when he arrived. His desk was a mess, overflowing with paper work and coffee cups. The captain was sat at his desk seemingly intrigued in whatever piece of literature he was reading. Ian didn't want to disturb him with his non existing news.

Terry Milkovich's criminal record told him what he already knew; he was an alleged criminal for many amounts of crimes, yet he'd only been imprisoned for a maximum amount of five of them. The city's prison guards told Ian that Terry had countless amount of enemies for them to narrow the amount down to even ten. Ian had only been on the case for a day and he was already starting to feel like it was a lost cause.

Elliot joined him ten minutes prior to 8 with another stack of paper.

"Too much paper." Ian groaned, sipping his coffee. His brain was going fuzzy with the amount of reading he'd been doing.

"Did you even sleep?"

Ian rose an eyebrow and Elliot pointed to him in reply. Ian looked at himself, realizing what he meant. His usual crisp shirt replaced with a creased one and he wasn't even wearing a tie; he looked as if he'd either slept in his clothes or gotten dressed in the dark.

"This is an eminently stressful case." Ian sighed.

It was, Terry Milkovich was found on the road, two streets away from The Alibi with a gun wound to the stomach. There were no account of witnesses and no weapons near the scene. It was mind-blowingly difficult but Ian loved it.

"I know, so why don't you go down to the Milkovich's house while I go look through his impressively large records."

Ian agreed before putting his coffee down and putting his coat on. The winter was a cold one and he knew it was going to get even colder.

Ian knew where the Milkovich house was, everyone did. It was a surprise that the address wasn't permanently printed on the board in the precinct. However, it being a good 10 minutes away from the Gallagher house made it feel as if it was another territory; private land that he didn't want to mix up in. It wasn't familiar ground unlike the rest of the South Side were he felt safe among the crimes. Nobody wanted to end up on the wrong side of the Milkovichs.

When he got to the house he stopped before climbing the stairs. He breathed deeply, trying to make his breathing pattern at least semi-normal, made sure his badge was on display before running up the stairs. He pounded on the door and demanded to be let in as he announced the Chicago Police Department's presence.

He'd never imagined that he'd be the one to invade the Milkovich's house with a police badge and a gun in hand (for protection, of course). However he'd expected the police to do so sooner or later. It was inevitable.

When the door opened he fell into a mess of black hair, blue eyes and strong limbs: Mickey Milkovich. Mickey's eyes were a stunning, arctic blue that matched his pale complexion. He blushed at that thought and turned his head away. All of Mickey was stunning, he was surprised that he hadn't realised that before.

"What the fuck do you want?" Mickey asked, a hand over his eyes, shielding them from the light, and the other pushing Ian back. Ian stumbled before catching his balance.

"Detective Ian Gallagher, here to ask you questions concerning Terry Milkovich's death."

That shut Mickey up.

Mickey's face blanked before his eyebrows raised. "I know who you are Gallagher," That wasn't much of a surprise; most people from the South Side knew the Gallaghers. Ian also remembered Mickey from when he'd try to rob the Kash and Grab when they were both teenagers. Ian would never admit that his 15 year self had a crush on the youngest Milkovich son. "what the fuck do you want?"

"Where were you between 9 and 11 pm, last night?" Ian asked, reciting the period of death that was written in the autopsy report. He'd memorised all the facts during his period of study the day before.

Ian pushed past Mickey and sat himself down on the sofa. One leg lent against his knee and his hands behind his head. He wasn't scared of the Milkovichs. Again, Ian had never been a good liar. Mickey slammed the door shut and came to sit opposite Ian, his face once again was a blank canvas.

"I was at the Alibi" Mickey finally let out.

"Until when?"

"I don't fucking know." Mickey looked at Ian with his piercing blue eyes, making Ian consider how he ever claimed Mickey unattractive. "Maybe until just before closing time?"

"Now is that a question or is that an answer?" Ian could be forceful if he tried to. Which he did if the situation included Mickey. He could imagine a number of different reasons why he had to be forceful to Mickey and they were all better than why he currently was.

Mickey smirked, "An Answer."

"Got any witnesses?"

Mickey stood up and threw his hands in his pockets. He pulled a cigarette out his pocket, lit it and came to sit next to Ian. He couldn't help to admire how it looked in the older male's chapped lips.

"I dunno, you could check with Kev?" Mickey's smirk grew larger. "Ay, I got an alibi at the Alibi."

Ian chuckled at that and he couldn't stop his face from lighting up in a grin.

"If you're not going to take this seriously, I'm going to have to take you to the station."

Ian didn't want to do that, he liked seeing Mickey at home. He seemed relaxed, almost carefree. The Milkovich's house was much like the Gallaghers but without the homely feel to it, the Mickovich's felt darker. There was the same smell of tobacco and booze and the similar broken objects and the cramped rooms but there were blood stains on the floors and weapons scattered across table tops. Ian knew you could feel very lonely at a place like this, even with a large amount of people.

Mickey looked Ian up and down before relaxing more into his seat. "You gonna ask some more questions then?"

"Do you know anybody who would want to kill your father?"

Understanding Mickey was difficult. Sometimes his features made it out that he was brave yet his posture contradicted that to show he was scared and sometimes it was the other way. Mickey was confusing and like most good riddles Ian wanted to solve him.

Mickey looked at him as if he was stupid. "I know a lot of anybodys."

"Has anybody recently threatened your father?" Ian clarified.

"How recently does recently mean?"

The other man was starting to get cocky and his pretentious tone definitely wasn't getting to Ian.

"Within the past couple of weeks." He sighed.

The room was starting to get hot and he could feel Mickey's gaze burning into him. He took his notepad and pen out his bag and began writing down the notes trying to distract himself from watching Mickey. Mickey watching had suddenly became Ian's favourite hobby.

"There were a couple of guys here the other day asking for him. Said something about drug money."

Ian nodded and wrote it down, trying to avoid eye contact with the older man. He could see Mickey's body tensing and un-tensing and Ian didn't know whether it was from lying or nerves. He hopped it was the latter, for both his and Mickey's sake.

"Could you describe them?" Ian asked, tapping his pen against his inner thigh.

Mickey took the cigarette from his mouth and blew the smoke into Ian's face before replying. "They were tall, strong build. Both white and had Chicago accents."

He doubted he'd get much more out of him. Family was family, no matter how many times they fucked you over you stood up for them and you protected them. Ian understood that, he'd been in the same situation a countless amount of times.

"Anything else?" Ian didn't want to leave, not yet.

Mickey sneered, "How about you fucking leave?" his voice didn't sound half as threatening as Mickey had probably meant it to sound.

Ian smiled, "Can't until you answer all the questions." He didn't admit that he didn't have many questions left. He didn't want a reason to leave.

"Ask them quicker then."

"Can't unless you answer them quicker." Ian snapped back, still tapping his pen against his leg.

Mickey kept his mouth shut and his eyes closed, his head was leant on the back of the sofa. Ian almost liked this kind of Mickey, the relaxed, care-free looking one. It made him look younger, almost childish. It made him look free.

"Fine, Mickey." Ian began, his voice softer. "Are you going to give me anything I can work on?

Mickey shook his head, his eyes glinting. "You're gonna have to work for it."

He took that as a challenge and the warmth he could feel radiating from Mickey's body met with the warm breath that danced across his cheeks made Ian ready to act upon that challenge.

"You shouldn't propose something if you have no action plan to follow through."

Mickey's eyes lit up as he let his cigarette drop to the ashtray and waited until it had burnt out until he turned to Ian, "Who said I didn't?"

A few tense moments passed before Ian could feel the press of Mickey's lips against his own. They were everything he imagined and more. They were soft which clashed against the rough stubble that was tickling his skin. Mickey's mouth tasted like a mix of tobacco and weed a combination that only tasted good inside his mouth.

They were fighting for each other, battling to see whose hands could feel the most of the other and who's tongue could explore the most of the other's mouth. It was a battle Ian didn't mind losing if it meant he got to feel Mickey's warm mouth press against his own.

It couldn't last though because Mickey was a suspect in Ian's situation and although he'd broken rules in his time as a police officer (and before) nothing was worse than breaking the unspoken golden rule of don't hook up with pending criminal suspects.

"We can't." Ian said, although he could already feel the regret from stopping it bubbling up inside his stomach.

Mickey's eyes were half raised and half in a frown as if he was debating on how he should react. He hummed before taking another cigarette out the packet on the desk. "That didn't just happen, Gallagher." Mickey finally huffed through tobacco filled air.

Ian glanced at Mickey and could see the piercing blue eyes showing no emotion but his shoulders were tense as if he was waiting for a blow. "Mickey," he began, his tone soft. "you're a suspect in my investigation. Whatever happens between the two of us could get either of us thrown in to a cell."

"As if the whole police department doesn't expect me to end up in a fucking cell anyway. I was born a fuck up."

"If you have any news, you know where to find me."

He didn't do anything but slam the door behind him.

_**_

Elliot was still sat among shoulder-high piles of paperwork when he got back to the station. He sighed, they were never going to get any where with this case.

"Did you get anywhere with the Milkovichs?" Elliot asked when Ian arrived at his desk.

Ian shook his head, "Mickey, Terry's youngest, said that his dad had too many enemies. Someone did come to the their house a few nights ago about a deal gone wrong but that's probably nothing." His partner looked nearly as stressed as he did with dark circles under his eyes and his shirt crumpled. "Did you get anywhere?"

"There was something about a Paul Jokum a known dealer. Apparently him and Milkovich got in a couple heated arguments during their mutual stay at Cook Country."

It wasn't great information but at least they had some information.

It wasn't great information but at least it was some information.

"Do you have an address?"

His partner nodded, "125 Eckford Gardens"

The building in question was a small, run down house. The paint was cracking and the windows crashed; it looked tired and forgotten.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Ian questioned.

Elliot nodded before counting to ten. He looked at Ian who raised an eyebrow in turn. The older man ran to the door and kicked it open.

"You're not actually meant to kick a door in Elliot, this isn't a movie." He rolled his eyes.

"Didn't think anybody was home."

Ian shook his head before following his partner in.

It didn't look like anybody had entered the building in a long time. All the surfaces were covered with dust and the living room was filled with the smell of damp.

"You check the bedroom and I'll check the other rooms." Ian directed as he walked towards the living room.

The living room was in the same condition as the other room's they'd seen. Covered in dust and littered with empty beer bottles. It looked like a dumping site for an alcoholic and he wasn't sure that it wasn't exactly that.

The bathroom was worse as the mirror was shattered and cupboards were packed with plastic bags filled with drugs.

"I think I've found something." Ian shouted to Elliot as he marvelled at the sight of what was presumably a million dollars worth of drugs.

"Me too." Elliot replied, "come here."

Ian followed the sound of Elliot's shouting to the bedroom.

"What's the problem?" Ian asked before he walked in.

Elliot stood before a decaying body. The body had to have been there for weeks, it was a surprise that neither of them had smelt it as they'd entered the building. The room was no different to the others, just layers of dust and the beckoning piles of empty bottles. The body appeared unmarked and it showed no obvious sign of death; no bullet wound, no stab wound - no blood.

"I think we have Jokum." Elliot mumbled, a hand covering his mouth and nose as he tried not to breath in the fumes from the decaying man.

Ian nodded. "Call the medical team and get them other here. We need to find out what killed them."

Elliot agreed before calling the precinct, telling them that they'd found a believed suspect. Although, if he died when Ian presumed he did it was very doubtful that he was even alive when the murder took place.

"Can you get the drugs team in? There's a couple million dollars worth of drugs in the bathroom." Ian asked once Elliot had got off the phone. "I'm going to check the rest of the house. See if there's anything else that's suspicious."

The study was the only room left to investigate. It was different from the other rooms, it was neater as ifJokum spent all his time in that one room. There was less dust and only a couple empty bottles. The room smelt clean and well-kept.

It homed a couple dozen filling cabinets, which made Ian even more suspicious of the guy. Inside each of them was one black, leather journal. He skipped through them and they were all filled completely apart from the last one. The last one had a page ripped up and only two words written inside: Kim Holovictny.

The other journals had records of dealings and various other crimes that had taken place written in them. Nothing useful to the case but the date on the last entry was a couple of weeks ago. Ian needed to find the missing page if he wanted to solve the crime, he knew it.

Spending the next few hours searching the room for the missing page was a lost cause. It wasn't anyway. Ian had a sick feeling that whoever had that page also killed Terry Milkovich.

He needed to talk to Mickey again.

He took the journals with him to the station, updating Elliot on what he'd found out. They searched through the journals until the early morning, trying to find that would help them with their case. There was nothing in there to do with Terry Milkovich or even Kim Holovictny. He left the precinct still thinking that he would never solve the case.

The night was spent like the last, tossing and turning in bed. His mind running with ideas on how it could have happened and how Kim Holovictny had anything to do with Terry Milkovich or even Jokum. He couldn't think of anything worth sharing.

Elliot and Ian spent the morning searching for Kim Holovictny in the criminal data base: nothing came up. Nobody had ever seen or heard of Kim Holovictny and it was starting to drive him mad.

"It's time to bring Mickey in." Ian said, after they'd spent multiple hours searching through everything with no luck.

Mickey arrived an hour later, his stubble unshaven and himself unwashed. Ian didn't find it attractive, honestly.

"Miss me?" Mickey smirked as they entered the interrogation room.

The interrogation room was small and cramped home to only a desk and a couple of chairs. It meant that he was in close proximity to Mickey the whole time and he could see his chest moving as he breathed in and out. He could see all of Mickey, the ins and the outs and the things he'd never noticed. He saw Mickey but he didn't see Mickey.

Ian lent against the desk as he watched Mickey sit down. "No, do you know who Kim Holovictny is?"

Mickey's eyebrows shot up. "I've never heard of him."

"Lying to a police officer is a criminal offence."

The other boy's hand itched into his pocket as if he were craving a smoke. "I'm not lying."

Ian's fists slammed against the table.

"This isn't a joke Mickey. This is serious." Ian said.

Mickey smirked as he lent back in his chair, his hands came to rest against the back of his neck. "Chill, Gallagher. I know it's not a fucking joke."

"Then stop acting as if it is one." Ian sighed. "Do you know who Jokum is?"

"The dealer guy?" Mickey questioned, his voice more authentic.

That was it. Mickey seemed to have lost the tough guy attitude he usually carried around. He seemed broken and Ian supposed that it would be stupid if he wasn't. His dad just died and no matter how bad a parent is the loss of one still screws their child up.

"Yes, the dealer guy." Ian answered as he sat on the chair opposite to Mickey.

Mickey raised an eyebrow, "what's he got to do with Terry's case?"

There was something about the South Side were everyone had shit parents. You didn't hear the words mum or dad as much as you heard the words fuck and shit, that was it. Everyone accepted and nobody questioned somebody about their parents.

"Shit all." Ian admitted, "he was dead before Terry was murdered. However, he had many journals inside his house. One name jumped out at us: Kim Holovictny. We believe he may be involved in your father's murder."

The smirk left Mickey's face and he started heating up. Apparently there was something very interesting with Mickey's hands then. "I don't know who he is." Mickey mumbled.

Tony the cop (A nickname that although Ian himself was a cop had not been forgotten) chose that moment to enter the room. "Elliot wanted me to come and get you. Said he had a break through with the case."

"Thanks Tony." Ian gave one last look at Mickey before he made up his mind. He was either going to do something really stupid or really smart.

Ian walked past Mickey and pulled him closer. "Meet me at my apartment, at 8." Ian whispered before telling him his address and leaving Mickey with Tony.

Mickey was really starting to make Ian lose control.

He met Elliot huddled over his desk, paper work still scattered everywhere.

"Tony told me you wanted to talk to me?"

Elliot looked at him confused and shot up an eyebrow, "Nah, never said that."

He shook his head, "Mistake maybe? Mickey didn't say much. Didn't know Jokum was dead and had no clue who Holovictny is. Seems like he's a John Doe."

Ian never claimed to be the child prodigy of the family.

_**_

At 7 Ian left the station to go home, already battling with himself on how much of a stupid idea it was to invite Mickey (a suspect!) to his home. Yet he couldn't stop thinking about him.

Mickey Milkovich with his fucked up family and his convicted brothers. Mickey Milkovich with the homophobic tendencies and aggressive attitude. Mickey Milkovich whom he kissed the other day. That Mickey, with the attractive eyes and the beautifully crafted fingers. The Mickey who he couldn't stop thinking about.

He showered and changed into a much simpler outfit of jeans and a t-shirt and then sat on the sofa with a bottle of beer waiting for Mickey to turn up.

Ian's brain was busy making up scenarios on just about everything that could go wrong before the doorbell rang. Ian shook himself out before rubbing his hands on his jeans and getting up to answer the door. Mickey's appearance surprised him, he as if he'd actually tried to look nice, he'd showered and was wearing a dark button-up shirt with even darker jeans. Once again Ian was left wondering why he had ever thought Mickey wasn't attractive because he was, as bad as it was to say it, a living wet dream.

"Hey." Ian finally managed to breath out when his brain finally caught up to him.

Mickey smirked, "Hey yourself." he said before following Ian into the house.

There were multitudinous things that Ian would have liked to have done to himself then and none of them included saying hey. Mickey might have been included in some of those things; actually Mickey may have been included in all of those things.

"Come in why don't you." Ian smirked, "you want anything?"

Mickey sat down on the couch, already starting to look relaxed. He nodded, "Beer?" he asked.

He tossed Mickey a beer before joining him on the sofa.

"How was your day today Mick, did ya do anything?"

Mickey raised an eyebrow, which seemed to be his signature move. Ian wanted to know Mickey, he wanted to know where he went when he was upset and what it his favourite colour is or what his best memory. It was stupid, he knew but he didn't want to just know Mickey as the tough guy who roamed the neighbourhood he wanted to know Mickey, the one who..

"Oi, Gallagher. Lost in your own thoughts are we?" Mickey teased.

Ian liked the teasing tone that Mickey used. It was light and carefree as if he didn't think what he said, he just does it. It was admirable and beautiful, just like Mickey.

"Leave it Milkovich." Ian muttered as he turned his gaze away from Mickey's face.

Mickey's face was currently stationed in his so far favourite face. The one were his features were so relaxed and his shoulders were down making him look young and not the scarred, aged look that so many people around the South Side had.

"Do you mind if I smoke in here?" Mickey asked as he put his hands in his pockets.

"Go for it." Ian replied, grinning at him.

Mickey just rolled his eyes before taking one out of his pack and lighting it. "You got anything fun?" Mickey asked, "unless you enjoy staring at walls."

Cocky shit.

Ian debated with himself until he mentally agreed that he was allowed to be because of the way he looked there, relaxed into the sofa and smoke whirling out his mouth. He'd never admit that though, he was too afraid.

He barely wanted to admit it to himself but as he sat there, watching the presumed suspect laugh under his breath and his fingers fiddle with a cigarette he couldn't think of a time where he'd been happy. He'd been so stressed with work he hadn't been able to do anything to relax. Mickey was fun and he was looking for fun.

"Wanna watch a movie?" Ian asked.

Mickey smirked, "this a date Gallagher?"

As much as Ian wanted to say no, it totally was.

"Chose a movie, I'm gonna order pizza."

Now Ian definitely wished that they hadn't just spent the past hour and a half eating pizza, drinking beers and watching a movie but that's what they did. They could have done so much better things. He was cutting it close to being sexually frustrated sitting that close to Mickey for that amount of time. He couldn't help but flicker his eyes to Mickey's face every couple of minutes. He was pretty sure he spent more time watching Mickey's face than he did watching the movie.

Once the movie had ended and the pizza boxes closed Ian couldn't help but pull Mickey closer to him and press their lips together. He could feel Mickey pause slightly before he matched Ian's rhythm. The familiar taste of beer and tobacco filled their mouths as they tried to get rid of the non-existing gap. Ian's hand lightly trailed Mickey's body wanting to feel every part of him.

The kiss got better and better as time went on and he could feel both their bodies heating up. He pushed his hand under Mickey's shirt wanting to get as much skin contact as he could. Mickey's porcelain skin clashed against his dark hair and it looked perfect, Ian couldn't think of a better body. He didn't even want to think of a better body because he had Mickey there, underneath him and he couldn't think of anything better.

Mickey pulled away, slowly, to kiss delicately against the other's neck. "Fuck, Gallagher." Mickey whispered ardently.

His hand slid down to find Ian's crotch, and he palmed the pant covered bulge slowly. Making Ian moan and arch at the touch, Mickey's hands were a fucking wonder. Mickey's eyes were softly with arousal and Ian wanted to take a mental note of Mickey's face to remember forever.

If Ian thought Mickey looked relaxed before it was nothing until he saw the other man underneath him looking rapacious.

Mickey's hands worked on the buttons on Ian's jeans, eagerly trying to get to what was underneath. Ian's hips arched up to help Mickey take off his jeans. They were both eager to get their hands on each other, pushing against each other to have the most physical contact as possible.

The slow pace continued until Mickey slipped of the sofa and bent before Mickey, Ian was making quiet nearly un-audible sounds of disappointment. Mickey just smirked up at him with earnest eyes.

"Fucking do something" Ian mumbled, as he couldn't take his eyes away from the blue ones that lit up Mickey's face.

Mickey pulled off Ian's boxers, he hummed and kissed Ian's thigh before licking a long strip up Ian's cock, repeating it a couple of times and feeling Ian shudder under him. He smirked before sucking the younger man's cock further into his mouth. Ian's hands came to clutch Mickey's hair, as he felt the man's lips go further and further down.

Every so often Mickey looked up at Ian's face and could see him with his head thrown back and his mouth open as quiet moans escaped his mouth.

If there was an image Mickey would want to keep forever, it was definitely that.

_**_

"Autopsy reports claim that Jokum was poisoned." Elliot said as soon as Ian walked into the precinct.

Ian's mind was still replaying the night before, he couldn't get Mickey out of his head. They'd spent 3 hours together, half of which they'd spent tangled up with each other yet Ian couldn't help but desirously think of the older brunette.

He'd slept well during the night yet his dreams were haunted by the talented hands and lips that belonged to Mickey, he couldn't help it. He was already too far in.

"Were there any prints at the crime scene?" Ian asked once he finally got his thoughts in check.

Elliot shook his head. "No, but CCV camera from a couple of weeks ago show a man, blonde hair walking out the house a few hours after Jokum last entered."

"So that makes a Terry a no go. Terry didn't murder Jokum." Now they had two murders they had to deal with and both had very little clues to help them along the way. "What do Milkovich and Jokum have in common?" Ian asked, trying to at least work out how the two were connected. Ian presumed whatever it was involved Jokum's journals.

It was going to take forever to go through all those journals. He planned to go from most recent to least, hoping they'd spot something before they got to the last one.

"They both served jail time during a shared period of time," Elliot began as he read facts off a sheet. "They both got caught by the same cop."

That was interesting or at least, it was a connection. Two guys get caught by the same guy, arguments break out and threats get taken seriously.

"Who was the cop?"

"Tony Markovich."

Tony? It wasn't much of a surprise, Tony was one of the most involved cops. Hell, he was always there when Frank needed picking up from the streets at night when he'd got too drunk. It wasn't as much of a lead as they'd expected then, Tony killing someone? Very doubtful.

Ian voiced his opinion, reminding Elliot on all the times Tony had helped them when they'd been stuck on a case.

"We should still try and talk to him though. See if he knows anything that we don't." Ian agreed and waited for Elliot to get the other cop.

"Did you arrest Terry Milkovich and Paul Jokum between April the 29th and May the 5th of this year?" Ian asked once Tony took a seat opposite to him.

Interrogating a cop was hard, they'd been to the same classes you had and they knew how to spot guilt and nerves just as easily as they knew how to hide them. You think you've got them but they change their features or their body language and their emotion is lost, it's difficult to say the least.

Tony coughed before answering. "I did." His voice was a continuous monotone. No hints of lying or any other kind of emotion but they had the facts in front of them to know vaguely what was right and wrong.

Ian folded his hands behind his back and leaned further into his chair. "Did you notice anything suspicious between the two?"

"Nothing, everything seemed normal."

Hesitation. He hesitated, maybe it was a bluff but it was a definite hesitation. He had to make sure he wasn't lying, it was compulsory. "Are you sure?"

The older cop sighed before shaking his head. "No, there was one thing. Milkovich was acting weary as if somebody was out to get him, which I didn't find suspicious at the time but now.. I'm not so sure."

He could understand the hold back on that information, being suspicious while being arrested wasn't really noteworthy. Yet if they'd examined the suspicious behaviour displayed by Milkovich they may have stopped his death.

"What about Jokum? Anything up with him?" Elliot asked, taking a break from reading through the journals.

Tony un-crossed and re-crossed his legs before he answered. "I suppose. Not at first but after spending 24 hours in the holding cell he became restless and kept repeating that he had to write something down."

Supposedly he was planning to write something in the journal but unfortunately, for the case, he'd never gotten that far. All of the information Tony had given them wasn't suspicious, it wasn't newsworthy it was just plain and ordinary. Something was up with this case, he knew it.

"When Jokum was taken in to the station did he have something with him? A journal or a piece of paper?"

Ian expected that a person like Jokum with that much information in his journal would keep it every where with him. It held all his information, the next meeting he had to the amount of Coke he had stocked in his bathroom cabinets.

"Jokum had a journal."

That circumstantiated Ian's theory.

"Did you examine it before entry and exit?" Ian asked, wanting to know whether it still had the page in it when he'd left the station.

The cop just nodded.

"Was it missing a page?"

Tony thought about this for a moment, his lips pressed together and his eyebrows squished. "It wasn't when we received it but when we returned it there was a page missing, yes."

So the page went missing at the station, whomever took it must have been at the station during the period of Jokum's 24 hours in the holding cell. Unless Jokum himself took the page out himself, wanted to make sure no one knew the information he had. Obviously, whatever information was on that piece of paper was deadly; it had already killed two people.

"Thank you for your time, Tony." Elliot said.

As soon as Tony left Elliot switched seats so he was sitting opposite Ian. He held a piece of paper in his hands, filled with scribblings and letters that were thrown across the page.

"Kim Holovictny," Elliot mumbled, looking at the paper. "What if it's an anagram?"

"What for?"

Elliot sighed, "Tony Milkovich?"

A Milkovich kid? He knew Tony, he was one of Mickey's older brothers and nearly twice as aggressive as the younger one but was he smart enough to actually kill? Probably not? Smart enough to kill his own father? Again, even more unlikely.

It's all they had though, so they might as well question him. "We'll need to question him. Should we give him a home visit or send him to the station?"

"Home visit. I wan't to learn as much about the Milkovichs as I can."

Great, Elliot was in superior mode.

Ian arrived at the Milkovich home for the second time in so many days. He was almost getting sick of the cracked paint and shattered windows.

"Please don't kick the door in." Ian said when he saw Elliot racing up the stairs.

The cop in question sighed, "you ready to go in?" he asked as he pointed to the door.

"Ready as I'll ever be." Ian grinned.

Elliot knocked on the door, shouting a similar speech to Ian's about the Chicago Police Department.

Again, Mickey answered the door his voice crackling and his eyes sleep. "Gallagher? What the fuck do you want?" he asked, stepping away from the door.

Elliot stepped forward to meet Mickey's eyes. "Your brother home? Tony?" he asked before pushing through the door.

Mickey grunted before nodding, he pointed towards the kitchen before he turned to his bedroom.

Tony, like Mickey had said, was sat in the kitchen leaning over a bowl of cereal.

Elliot took charge in the interrogation of Tony Milkovich. Unfortunately it was pointless, Tony had been serving time during the past two murders and had only just been released that morning.

"Did you hire anybody to do it for you?" Ian asked from where he was stood watching the two.

Tony shook his head, no. Ian had guessed that Tony was probably too dumb to even think about getting somebody to kill someone and getting somebody to kill his own dad? That was going against the Milkovich code.

Elliot just nodded although Ian was sure he knew something. His body was twitching as if he was wanting to tell Ian something, he hoped it was something good. They'd been working on this case for what seemed forever and they were still not going anywhere.

"Thank you for your time, Tony."

They hadn't learnt anything.

Once they got back to the precinct they both restarted their search through the journals. There had to be something.

"What if the paper is still here?" Elliot said, "What if it was a cop who took it out? If there was something in there that would damage their career?"

Ian sighed, it seemed reasonable but it was unlikely. A cop wanting to hide something? Suspicious. Cops were meant to be the good guys, not the bad ones.

"Go to the evidence room, see if there's anything there?" He suggested, wanting to make sure that there was nothing they'd missed in the journals.

Every page in the journals were filled with Jokum's cacography. The details in them were impeccable and Ian admired his ability to note everything down. The last meeting scheduled in his journal was a week before his death. It was nothing of significance yet the page later claimed fear. Fear of what? They didn't know.

Criminals had a lot of enemies and that included Jokum. But who was Jokum's biggest enemy? Who was somebody that would hate both Milkovich and Jokum so much that they'd want to kill them? He didn't know but whoever they were, Ian promised to find them.

_**_

"I've got it." Elliot claimed after another 3 hours of searching.

This better be good.

Elliot held a single piece of cartridge paper in his hand, it again was scrawled with messy handwriting to the brim. Ian read it and it all clicked in to place, of course. It made so much sense nobody would hate criminals as much as him and criminals would hate no one as much as him. He suddenly understood the whole case.

"Send him into the interrogation room." Ian demanded as he made his way over.

If they could prove this then Mickey wouldn't be a suspect any more and that meant he could do whatever he pleased to the youngest Milkovich son.

When Ian arrived at the interrogation room both Elliot and the suspect were sat in their expected places.

"What connection do you have with Terry Milkovich?" Ian asked as he came to sit opposite the pair.

That was the question they needed him to answer. If they got this write then they got everything right and the un-expected criminal got his deterrence.

The suspect stopped and turned to face Ian, looking him directly in the eyes. "He's my father." he mumbled, his face heating up.

They scored. That was on the piece of paper and that was how they'd understood the whole case, those four words made everything easier to understand. From then on they knew they got him.

"Thank you," Elliot said. "What about your relationship with Paul Jokum?"

"None."

Twitch. He was lying.

"I'm going to ask you one more time. What is your relationship with Paul Jokum?"

That made him pause. "I arrested him, on the 4th May." Tony said, confirming what they already knew.

"Thank you." Ian replied.

Elliot stood up and paced around the room. "How did you find out that Terry Milkovich was your father?"

Tony stopped still and turned his attention to the wall. His body was tensed and his limbs were crossed, he looked like the text book definition of nervous. They had him exactly where they wanted him.

"I did some research while I was working Milkovich's case."

Ian sighed, "What kind of research?"

He could see Tony huff as his fits clenched and his jaw snap down. He knew that Tony wanted out of the situation that he was feeling strained and pressured but that was the point of an interrogation. They didn't want the suspects to come out the room feeling light and happy. That would make them shit officers.

"It was legal." Was all Tony said as he clenched and un-clenched his fingers.

It wasn't as if Ian wanted to arrest Tony. There was something different to arresting one of your own it felt wrong and as if you were betraying your work force. But Ian had promised to get the bastard behind bars so that's what he had set out to do.

Elliot laughed. "I'm sure it was."

"Now, are you going to answer the questions or are you going to spend the next 50 years locked up in a cell?" Ian chirped before getting up and sitting on the desk. He flipped through the paperwork, reminding himself with the case's facts. "Now, how did you find out that Terry Milkovich was your dad? I doubt your mum went blurting around that her great son came from the sperm of a Milkovich."

Tony's eyes went back and forth between the other men's faces as if he was waiting for a time were they were weak. Neither of the men were going to do that, both to preoccupied in the case in front of them.

"I was involved in a case that included the Milkovich's. A friend of Terry's told me that he had another son, I didn't realize until I read Jokum's journal that the son was me."

Elliot looked at Tony, as if he was trying to work out were Tony was. "Did you rip the page out?" Elliot asked.

Tony nodded.

"Did you kill Terry Milkovich and Paul Jokum within the corresponding time frame?"

Tony nodded.

"Why Jokum?" Ian asked.

A long pause. "I didn't want people to know that I was a Milkovich. A cop a Milkovich? It would never be the same. I'd never be treated the same."

Ian was having the same debate on the whole Mickey situation, he could understand.

That left one thing, why did he do it? Ian could think of many reasons, he saw how Terry treated the rest of South Side. He wasn't nice but really, was anybody? To kill your own father? He could understand the anger Tony must have felt towards the man, leaving him and his mother in such a messed up neighbourhood but he was a cop and cops were brave. Or at least they were supposed to me.

"We're going to need all this written down please, Tony." Ian said as he passed paper to the other cop.

His partner paused, "What made you do it?" Elliot asked.

Tony looked up from where he was writing his statement, his eyes wide. "I didn't want a fuck up as a father."

Ian knew where he was coming from.

To kill a man? That was all kinds of insane and the wrong type of brave. It was something that Ian would never be able to understand.

Ian left the precinct with a clear mind and a silent head. He was free of the case and he had solved it! He solved the case he believed impossible. He could understand why it was difficult, nobody expected a cop but then you should always expect the unexpected.

He only had one place where he wanted to go and it wasn't home.

It was Mickey, with his bright face and his pale eyes. Mickey with his tough guy appeal and his gelled black hair, Mickey whom he couldn't get out of his mind. Mickey who was no longer a suspect.

"Gallagher?" Mickey questioned when he saw Ian at the door.

Ian couldn't do anything but press their lips together, "You're no longer a suspect in Terry Milkovich's case. The case is solved."

Mickey's eyes were bright.

**Author's Note:**

> Tomfeltin.tumblr.com
> 
> I'M AWARE THAT THERE IS A LOT OF PLOT HOLES.  
> kudos make me happy???


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